


happy accident

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Tumblr Prompts [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Auto Correct, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut, Texting, Typos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was about to send another message when he realized that autocorrect had royally fucked him over by changing <em>your pick</em> to <em>your dick.</em></p><p>Or in which Stiles' typo about dinner turns into an unexpected blow job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy accident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dearesthale (Kaonashiecho)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaonashiecho/gifts).



> For the five word prompt: "Quick! Give me your phone!"

Texting had been a staple of Derek and Stiles' relationship since before they'd even started dating.

They'd finally pulled their heads out of their asses, as Erica so eloquently put it, three months ago after a late night of poring through the bestiary and researching hellhounds had somehow turned into a frantic, heated make out session.

After avoiding each other for a week and a half, a tension filled awkwardness lingering between them, they'd finally sat down and talked about what had happened after Derek had texted Stiles in an odd turn of events and suggested they talk. And by talk they meant they'd spent two hours kissing on the couch before a single word was said.

Stiles had rested his forehead against Derek's collarbone afterwards, running his fingers over the dark stubble on Derek's neck as they both panted, wrapped in each other's arms holding one another as they valiantly tried to catch their breath, speechless until Stiles mustered up enough courage to ask what they were doing, what they were.

Derek had quietly admitted he didn't know, one of his hands fisted in the soft cotton of Stiles' t-shirt, tugging him closer as he stroked his other hand up and down Stiles' back, brushed his fingers through his hair.

"Date me...?" Stiles had asked nervously, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip as he waited with bated breath for Derek to reject him, to push him away, to throw him out of the loft, out of the pack. He'd clutched Derek tighter, burying his face deeper into his chest, squeezing his eyes shut, terrified of Derek's answer, of his inevitable rejection.

He'd nearly had a heart attack when Derek had tightened his arm around him and breathed out a soft, barely audible, "Yeah."

However instead of going into cardiac arrest, he'd clambered into Derek's lap and kissed him over and over and over again for another few hours, both of them smiling the smiling time.

They'd been dating ever since.

Their relationship was unexpectedly easy to get used to, much to Stiles' surprise, as nothing truly changed aside from the fact that he could now kiss Derek whenever he wanted, no longer having to contain his urges to shower Derek in affection. They texted daily, almost constantly, Derek being much more adept with technology than Stiles would have ever thought, often being the one to initiate their late night conversations.

They spent pack meetings and movie nights sitting together in Derek's favorite armchair, Stiles practically sitting in Derek's lap with his leg wound around one of Derek's, head on his shoulder as they held hands. Occasionally they'd go out on more formal dates, going out to dinner or whatever new movie Stiles insisted they go see, once even going to the arcade where Derek had destroyed Stiles at skeeball before Stiles kicked his ass at air hockey, both of them giving away their extra tickets to a group of little kids after getting their desired prizes―Stiles picking out a Grumpy Cat plush that he promptly handed to Derek while Derek selected a stuffed Pikachu he gave Stiles.

It was nice. It was  _ normal _ .

And texting helped make it so. When they couldn't say the words they desperately longed to, either because it would leave them too exposed, too vulnerable or because the words simply stuck in their throats, they would simply text each other.

They texted when they were apart, when Stiles was in class, hiding his phone under the desk and trying not to smile too obviously down at his crotch as he responded to Derek's messages. They texted when they were together, during pack dinners and movie nights so they didn't bother anyone else, both still somewhat reserved about PDA, instead trading compliments and talking about their day over text.

So of course it was texting that got them into this mess.

Stiles and Scott had been on their way to the loft for movie night, Stiles answering texts from Derek at every red light and stop sign despite the sideways looks Scott kept giving him. He and Derek had been discussing plans to hang out after movie night, planning to lounge around on the couch and eat some cheap takeout as they watched Twilight Zone reruns. The perfect date if you asked Stiles.

Stiles had just pulled up to a red light when his phone buzzed on his thigh. Another text from Derek, asking  _ what do you want for dinner? _

Stiles had quickly typed back  _ your pick _ , fumbling with his phone as the light turned green and the SVU behind them honked impatiently. As they pulled up to Derek's building he checked his phone to see if Derek had responded, frowning when he saw the  _ read _ notification under his message but no reply from Derek.

He was about to send another message when he realized that autocorrect had royally fucked him over by changing  _ your pick _ to  _ your dick _ .

And of course, just as Stiles was typing a second text explaining the typo, his phone died. The black screen stared at him mockingly.

"Ahhhh!" Stiles screeched, dropping his phone like a hot coal. He turned to Scott, making grabby hands at his phone, leaning over the center console as he demanded, "Quick! Give me your phone!"

"What? No," Scott refused, looking at Stiles like he was crazy, moving his phone out of Stiles' reach. "Dude, look we're already here, you can talk to Derek when we get up there."

Right. Talk to Derek when they got up to the loft. In front of everyone.

Erica would never let him live it down and Peter would leer at him for the rest of the night, make comments about him being hungry for cock, probably offer him his dick for dinner. And while the thought of Derek getting all possessive and protective over him was admittedly pretty hot he really wasn't in the mood to watch Derek kill Peter. Again.

He chewed his lip as he and Scott entered the building and rode the elevator Derek had installed after Stiles kept complaining about having to constantly climb up two dozen flights of stairs, up to the loft, imagining Derek's reception to the unintentionally forward text.

Would he be upset? Pissed that Stiles would be so brazen and suggestive? Oh god, what if he was mad?

They hadn't done anything beyond kissing and cuddling and a teensy tiny little itty bit of grinding; would Derek be angry that Stiles made such a presumptuous comment, albeit accidentally so, without them thoroughly discussing their relationship becoming sexual?

Or would he be turned on? That might be worse than if he'd been upset. Stiles could deal with angry Derek but turned on Derek was unfamiliar territory.

Oh god, what if he wanted to  _ do _ something? What if he wanted a blow job? Stiles didn't know how to give a blow job!

His mind immediately started a slideshow of all the horrible scenarios that could happen, from the mildly embarrassing to the humiliatingly horrifying.

What if they did start getting physical and Stiles ended up doing something stupid like accidentally biting Derek's dick? Or what if once Derek realized how utterly pathetic and inexperienced Stiles was he laughed and dumped him, deciding Stiles wasn't worth his time?

"You alright, man?" Scott asked, startling him out of his thoughts that were slowly but surely steering him towards a panic attack. He nodded, closing his eyes as he focused on regulating his breathing, not wanting to start hyperventilating in the enclosed space of the elevator. Passing out might just completely ruin the evening.

"Yeah, it's nothing," Stiles dismissed, flopping a hand around in Scott's general direction, hoping he would just go with it instead of pursuing the matter further. Thankfully Scott said nothing, leaving Stiles to lean his head back against the wall, exhaling deeply as they neared Derek's floor, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat before they reached the loft.

He knew realistically neither scenario was very probable, he had watched enough porn and read enough smutty fanfic to know, in theory, how to give a blow job and he knew Derek would never laugh at him for being inexperienced, he was a virgin after all and Derek was always extremely understanding, and he knew Derek would never break up with him for something so trivial. And yet.

Shaking himself from his less than encouraging thoughts, he followed Scott into the loft, tugging the steel door closed behind them and stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were already arguing about what movie to watch first, sprawled out on one of the couches, as Kira and Allison shook their heads from the loveseat, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Peter was reclining in Derek's usual armchair, legs crossed with his hands folded behind his head, watching the betas bicker with an amused smirk.

Stiles performed a quick, perfunctory scan of the loft, looking for Derek. He found him standing by the kitchen island in a white tank top and black sweatpants, his phone in his hand, frowning down at his screen.

He could feel the anxiety wash over him, fingers twitching in his pockets, curling around his dead phone, as his palms grew wet and clammy. He was debating whether or not to just go over to Derek and quietly explain the typo when Erica barked, "Stiles!"

He jumped, yelping, as he turned his head, earning a silent raised eyebrow from both Boyd and Peter and a few giggles from the rest of the pack. Erica rolled her eyes at his jumpiness, twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger, narrowing her eyes at him she accused, "You never answered my text. What movie do you wanna watch?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. My phone died on the way over," Stiles exclaimed, running a hand over the back of his neck as he moved to plop down on the other couch beside Scott, slipping out of his hoodie and draping it over the back of the couch. "Uh, what are the choices?"

He listened as Erica, Boyd, and Isaac listed off their picks―Saw III, Pacific Rim, and the Princess Bride, respectively―gratefully accepting the can of soda Kira silently offered him. He voted for Pacific Rim, vehemently refusing to watch anything gory whatsoever, with the Princess Bride coming in at a close second.

Erica was in the middle of a rant griping about Stiles' decision when Derek claimed the empty seat beside him on the couch, plopping a bowl of popcorn in his lap and immediately winding his arm around Stiles' shoulders. He turned to Erica with narrowed eyes. "He already made his decision, Erica. Pacific Rim it is."

"Ugh," Erica groaned, collapsing back against the couch cushions, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. "No fair."

"Benefits of dating the alpha," Stiles informed her with a smug grin, nuzzling his cheek against Derek's chest as he took a sip of his soda.

"I swear that's the only reason you're dating him," Erica sniped, cuddling closer to Boyd as Allison put the movie in the DVD player.

"Oh, totally," Stiles snorted. "That and that stubble, mmm. And don't forget all the mind blowing sex."

Derek snorted beside him as the movie started, lazily running his fingers through Stiles' hair, scratching his blunt nails over his scalp in a gentle massage, calming Stiles before he had the chance to tense, realizing what he'd just said.

They finished Pacific Rim, Stiles trying not to drool too obviously―Idris Elba's hot, leave him alone―when he was curled up with his boyfriend who happened to be a possessive alpha werewolf, and moved on to the Princess Bride after another vote, Saw III being vetoed again. He could feel the rest of the tension seep out of him as he laughed at the familiar jokes and gags, breath still catching when Inigo was stabbed, smiling dopily at the sweet fairytale happy ending.

He was falling asleep when Kira put in Zootopia―Saw rejected for the third time―muffling a yawn in Derek's chest. Derek gently tugged on his hair, tilting his head up. "You okay?"

"Mmm, just tired," Stiles mumbled, stifling another yawn.

"I think this'll be the last movie then," Derek said, leaning over to kiss Stiles' temple, smiling softly.

Stiles nodded, turning back to watch the opening scene of the movie. He managed to stay awake through the movie, making sure to make as many wolf puns as humanly possible, poking Derek's cheek during the howling scene and simply stating, "You."

Derek just cocked a brow at him before startling a laugh out of him by playfully snapping his teeth at Stiles' finger. Stiles yanked his hand away, shrieking, "Ah! Savage wolf!"

Once his laughter had abated he wrinkled his nose and tapped the tip of Derek's nose, sternly chastising, "Bad puppy."

When the credits began rolling everyone save for Stiles and Derek filed out of the loft, issuing soft farewells and offering waves goodbye to the couple. Once they were alone Derek turned back to Stiles. "You still want dinner? Or do you just wanna go to bed?"

Stiles immediately tensed at the mention of dinner, suddenly remembering his phone's faux pas and what it implied. Deciding it would be best to just confront the situation head-on, he sat up and claimed, "Uh, actually I was wondering if I could talk to you about that."

Derek straightened up, moving the nearly empty bowl of popcorn to the coffee table and shifting to face Stiles more. His brow furrowed as he tilted his head to the side, looking so much like a confused grumpy puppy Stiles almost forgot what he was going to say.

Shaking himself, he tried to overcome his embarrassment enough to blurt out, "It was a typo!"

Stiles waited anxiously, staring down at his hands that were fisted in his lap, waited for him to get upset, waited for him to get disappointed, to get  _ something _ .

Derek chuckled. A deep, throaty chuckle that shook his entire body as he threw his head back and guffawed loudly.

"What?" Stiles demanded, growing worried again. He'd known Derek was going to laugh at him, known he was going to think he was just some stupid kid. What the hell was he thinking, thinking he was good enough for Derek? "What's so funny?"

Derek waited a few moments before answering, wiping his eyes after laughing for several more minutes. Composing himself, he smiled at Stiles, cheeks flushed from laughter. "I figured it was a typo, Stiles. Oh my god, is that why you were so tense?"

"Yes!" Stiles snapped. "I thought you'd be expecting me to―" he gestured emphatically at Derek's crotch "― _ y’know! _ "

Derek laughed again, doubling over and clutching his stomach, shoulders shaking. Any other time Stiles would've basked in the sound of Derek's laughter, in the openness of his expression, but now he only shoved Derek's arm and turned away from him, frowning and crossing his arms.

Why was the thought of him sucking Derek's dick so funny, so laughable? He wasn't  _ that  _ unappealing. Was he?

"Whatever," he grumbled, his relief at Derek not being upset quickly turning to disappointment and hurt. He turned more away from Derek aware he was acting like a petulant child but not caring one bit, feeling justified in his brooding.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" Derek asked, wrapping his arms around Stiles' torso, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Nothing," Stiles bit out. "I just didn't know the thought of me blowing you was so ridiculous."

"Oh, hey. Babe, that's not true," Derek placated, kissing Stiles' cheek. "I promise, the last thing the thought of you blowing me is, is ridiculous."

"Mmm-hmm. Sure," Stiles grunted, still refusing to look at Derek.

"I promise," Derek urged, brushing his lips over Stiles' cheek. "Here, let me make it up to you."

"Oh, yeah? How?" Stiles inquired, tilting his head to meet Derek's eyes with a tiny smirk.

Derek immediately caught his lips in a deep kiss, stealing Stiles' breath away. Stiles was helpless to do anything but melt into the kiss, slipping his arms around Derek's neck and moaning against his lips.

Derek deepened the kiss, teasing Stiles' tongue with his own, nipping at his bottom lip and tugging the slightest bit. Just as Stiles was about to shuffle closer and deepen the kiss even further, Derek laid his hand on his chest and pressed him back, pinning him against the back of the couch, Stiles' heart pounding under his palm.

Stiles panted as Derek held him pinned against the couch, trying not to squirm too obviously under Derek's half-lidded gaze, already hard in his sweatpants. He watched, breath catching in his throat, as Derek slid off the couch and onto the floor, resting his hands on Stiles' knees to spread his legs, making himself at home between them.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Stiles asked in a whisper, his voice high and reedy. Derek leaned forward to kiss him again, running his hands up Stiles' thighs, fingers dipping under the waistband of his sweatpants, teasing at his skin.

Pulling back a few inches, letting his warm breath fan over Stiles' lips, Derek whispered, "If I do anything you're not ready for or you're not comfortable with or you don't like just tell me and I'll stop and we can just order takeout and watch another movie. Okay?"

"Okay," Stiles breathed, nodding jerkily as Derek's hands curled around the waistband of Stiles' sweats and began tugging them down his thighs. He raised up to help Derek with removing his pants, wiggling his hips in what he hoped was an enticing sway.

Once he had Stiles' sweatpants bunched up and pulled down to his knees, Derek lifted his head to kiss him again, peeling Stiles' boxers down his pale thighs, tracing his thumbs over the moles sprinkled over the pallid skin. He swallowed the high pitched sound Stiles made when he wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking him a few times, sliding his thumb through the pearly beads of precum leaking from his slit, spreading the slick wetness over the head.

Stiles broke the kiss to bite his lip, whining loudly as Derek jerked him off. Derek pressed a line of kisses down Stiles' throat, nipping at the smooth skin until there was a bloom of livid red on the side of his neck.

Abandoning Stiles' neck, and the lovely flush that was blossoming across his cheeks, Derek rucked up Stiles' t-shirt with one hand, strewing kisses over his heaving chest and flexing abs, sucking his pink pebbled nipples into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the hardened peaks before continuing his lips' journey south. He brushed his lips over the dark path of wiry hair leading down to Stiles' cock, sparing a moment to tease at his navel with a light tonguing and playful nip.

Derek stilled his hand's movement, firmly wrapping his fingers around the base of Stiles' cock, holding him in place. He looked up at Stiles from under his eyelashes, wanting to watch his reaction when he wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, laving the slit with the tip of his tongue.

Stiles' reaction was even more glorious than Derek could have ever dreamed. He sucked in a sharp breath, whimpering so beautifully high in his throat Derek nearly came in his sweats from the sound alone. He violently threw his head back, putting the straining tendons in his neck and the Derek's mark, stark against his alabaster skin, on wanton display.

Smiling around the cock in his mouth, Derek swirled his tongue around the head, sweeping over the frenulum and relishing in the sweet sound it wrenched from Stiles' throat. Pulling off his cock, Derek laid kisses over the head and halfway down the shaft, pumping his hand to wet Stiles' cock with saliva and more precum, laving his cock from base to tip in one long sensual glide before suckling the head again, lapping at his slit.

"Ugh, Der!" Stiles cried, thrashing his head from side to side against the back of the couch, toes curling in pleasure. He whined, biting his fist in an attempt to muffle his loud cries and soft mewls, trying to refrain from the urge to roll his hips.

Derek preened at the way Stiles squirmed, obviously resisting thrusting up into his mouth. Feeling more confident by the second, Derek relaxed his throat as he took Stiles deeper into his mouth, pumping his hand over the rest of the shaft he couldn't fit in his mouth.

Derek opened his eyes a fraction to gaze up at Stiles, reveling in the sight of the blotchy flush on his face as he writhed and moaned oh so prettily for Derek. His eyes fell closed again as he hummed around Stiles' cock, the vibrations jolting through Stiles' body, shaking him to his core, legs quaking on either side of Derek's shoulders.

Stiles raised his hand, fingers flexing in anticipation, wanting to bury it in Derek's hair, fist his fingers in the silky soft locks as Derek sucked him down. With his hand only a few inches away from Derek's head, Stiles hesitated, dropping his hand to the couch cushion beside him instead, squeezing it tightly as he panted desperately, trying to contain his whimpers.

Wanting to feel and hear Stiles, Derek slowly pulled off, stilling the motion of his hand despite Stiles' panicked protest of, "No, no, no, no, no!"

"S'okay, baby. I'm not stopping," Derek assured, running his hand up and down Stiles' thigh in a comforting caress. He reached up to thumb Stiles' bottom lip, brush his fingers through his sweat damp hair, take his hand in his own and slip it into his own hair. "It's okay. You can pull my hair."

Stiles inhaled a sharp breath, fingers reflexively tightening in Derek's hair. Derek smirked. "And I wanna hear you. No more biting your lip. That's my job."

As if to prove it, Derek raised up to capture Stiles' bottom lip between his teeth, applying just enough pressure to make Stiles' hips buck up in search of much needed friction, thrusting up into Derek's fist. Sinking back down between Stiles' legs, Derek tightened his hand around Stiles' cock, stroking him as he fit his lips around the head, taking him as deep as he could.

"Oh, fuck! Der!" Stiles whined, tugging on Derek's hair as he let his head fall back, mouth dropping open on a drawn out moan. "Oh my god! Feels so fucking good!"

Emboldened by Stiles' praise, Derek groaned around him, pressing the heel of his free hand against his own straining erection, massaging himself through the thick cotton. Moving his hand away from himself he gently cupped Stiles' balls, running his thumb over them with a very light tug.

When Stiles gasped at the unexpected touch Derek grew bolder, moving his fingers back further behind his balls, rubbing the pads of fingers over his perineum, sorely tempted to move even further and tease at Stiles' hole. Derek swallowed around Stiles' cock, the muscles in his throat undulating over his sensitive cock as he kneaded his fingers over his perineum in small, fast circles.

Derek smirked around Stiles' cock when he felt his balls tighten, pressing his tongue against the underside of his shaft as Stiles came with a startled shout, twisting his hand in Derek's hair and arching off the couch. Derek dutifully swallowed, swiping his tongue over the head of Stiles' cock so as not to miss a single drop of his release as Stiles shook with the aftershocks of his orgasm, heart thundering in his chest and echoing in Derek's ears.

He pulled off with an exaggerated lick of his lips, looking like the cat that got the cream as he rose to his feet and tucked Stiles back into his boxers and pulled up his sweatpants, sitting beside him on the couch. Using the hand buried in Derek's hair as leverage Stiles blindly drew him into a kiss, eyes still closed, curiously chasing the taste of himself on his boyfriend's tongue.

Leaning back against the couch cushions, pulling Stiles close against his chest, Derek nuzzled his cheek against Stiles' neck breathing in the scent of Stiles' contentment as he rubbed his arm. Stiles melted into Derek's arms, loose-limbed and sleepy, sighing in pure satisfaction as he came down from his orgasm.

"So," Derek began, looping his arm around Stiles' torso, "What did you think?"

Stiles huffed out a quiet laugh and tossed his head back against Derek's shoulder, softly announcing, "Best. Typo. Ever."

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts on [tumblr](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)


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